Aspect of the Forgotten
by actualbear
Summary: Magnolia has a past she can't remember, a present that doesn't make sense and future that looks bleak. But she has knives, whiskey and friends. That might suffice. M Rating. First two chapters are up now, additional chapters posted every week. Super-slow burn romance.
1. Bottles, Bows, Belts, etc

**Author's Note - This is my second story, and it is darker than the last. M Rating is earned, but hopefully not overly gratuitous. Trigger Warning for this 1st Chapter. If you don't want to read about the attempted sexual assault, then you can stop reading the chapter at the underlined sentence and move to the next chapter. It is only referenced one other time in the story and it doesn't affect comprehension if you skip it. BioWare/EA owns stuff, I'm just messing with it.**

 ** _One - Bottles, Bows, Belts, etc._**

At this point, her nobility was something she never thought about. Unless she was thinking of new ways to hide it. The Trevelyans of Ostwick were marked by genetics as much as nobility. All of them were taller than most, and had eyes that looked like they were made of jade. This particular woman also had dark crimson hair that looked like freshly spilt blood.

For several years she was a thief, using a mask to hide her identity. She took jobs that usually involved stealing from nobles who she knew were assholes. She was a very skilled duelist, but she preferred not to fight during jobs. It was much easier to sneak into a place, take what she wanted and leave without a trace. Still, it couldn't always be avoided. Usually because she would drink on the job and make too much noise.

If a fight occurred however, those who tangled with her usually didn't survive the encounter.

During one job, there were two 'Templars' who she'd caught attempting to capture an elven woman they claimed had information on an escaped apostate.

When she pressed them, they revealed themselves to be bandits. In truth, their weapons gave them away long before their words did in Magnolia's eyes. Magnolia beat the two men into red paste that soaked into the stones of the alleyway. The elf told Magnolia that her name was Treva, and that she'd just earned free drinks for life at the small pub where she worked. Treva was appreciative to say the least; the two became fast friends. Unfortunately, Magnolia's drinking ability led to the whole 'free drinks for life' becoming more a of a 'free drinks occasionally' thing.

Not that Magnolia was hurting for coin. Thanks to her brother, and a few others, Magnolia was an incredibly skilled duelist, an above-average archer and a legendary alcoholic. The potent combination of the first two meant she stayed well-supplied enough to support the third. She stole whatever else she needed. It also provided cover. No one assumed the red-headed lush sleeping in the corner of the tavern was the most wanted thief in Starkhaven.

Treva never used Magnolia's name, saying that Lia suited her better. Treva was the one that would find nobles for her to knock over. It worked out perfectly; Treva would set them up, and Magnolia would knock them down.

Eventually her nobility came calling. After a particularly draining job, she was 'temporarily retired.' She lived in a reclaimed cabin just outside of a Carta encampment about half a day's walk from Kirkwall. She'd heard that someone was looking for her the last time she was in Ostwick, and she'd assumed one of the dwarves had let on to the fact that she was living near them. She'd been at the cabin for a little over a year, and with the exception of those at the Carta encampment, she hadn't heard much from the outside world. Not that she needed to be concerned. She'd had a good string of jobs that left her with enough sovereigns to stay reasonably drunk and fed for the foreseeable future.

She wasn't really interested in people; the only ones she'd known outside of her brother's family and Treva were cold and calculating. Instead of talking to people, she practiced her weapon techniques. She read and re-read the books she'd collected. If anyone ever needed to know which Divines refrained from urinating on the Sundays, she'd be the one to contact. Magnolia had become a bit of a history buff; she was particularly well-versed Grey Warden history.

One time a Bard told her she looked as if she was made of gemstones. She had ruby colored hair and emerald eyes, and easily figured out what his real intentions were. Eventually the Bard became more forthcoming, and then later, downright threatening. It was the usual, sadly typical response from men who were used to women falling at their feet. Magnolia beat the man half to death with his own lute. It was her usual, sadly typical response. Eventually the regulars at the Tavern started warning men against chatting up the drunken redhead in the corner. It worked out well for Magnolia, as it meant no one interrupted her reading and drinking.

But her looks weren't a common combination; if someone asked one of the dwarves about a woman matching her description it would be easy for her to be found out. The courier looked as she'd assumed all of her living relatives to look. His steps were too loud, too concerned with themselves. His outfit, which was supposed to make him look regal, made him look like an overstuffed fennec. She'd spotted him about 100 yards away from her campsite and raised her bow.

She wouldn't have been able to put enough force behind it to kill him at this distance, but she thought she might scare him. She might have tried to knock off his hat if she'd been drunker, or if he'd come later in the day.

It was basically the same thing.

That sounded funny for some reason, more than likely it was the fact that she was on her third ale of the afternoon. Sober, she was above average with a bow. Drunk, less so. She was an exceptional duelist either way. She typically only used the bow to hunt game, preferring to take a more hands on approach with her professional work.

Malcolm probably wished she'd taken his training with a sword and shield more seriously. However, she'd always been a high-risk, high-reward type of fighter.

Her words.

She was a reckless wrecking-ball that was eventually going to take a bad step and end up painting the cobblestones of some back alley with her entrails.

His words.

She fired, missing his head by about a foot. The shot was actually a little lower than she intended. She'd spent most of the morning drinking and as a result her fine motor skills were a little impaired. Startled, the courier turned a dark shade of red, almost complementing the dyed cotton that made up his outfit. He was too far away for her to signal to come closer, and he probably wouldn't have even if he'd seen her.

She could chase him? Nah, she thought. Too soon after the whole arrow business.

She was wearing an old cowl and a former mercenary captain's old tunic. It was black and plaidweave, and it looked exactly like something someone important to her used to wear. She bought it right off the back of the man. He offered her what was under the tunic as well, but she was uninterested in his wares. The loose fitting garment hung off of her, making her look larger and less feminine than her toned body would have been suggested, if he were to get close enough to tell. Not to mention she wasn't wearing pants, opting to wear the large tunic like a sundress.

To recap, a courier came looking for a noblewoman, and was fired upon by a slightly tipsy pantless archer.

The woman frowned. 'Probably not off to the best start,' she thought.

Sure enough, two days later the same courier came by with four armed guards. She hesitated, reaching for her bow and her father's lyrium infused broadsword. It wasn't a weapon she could wield accurately, so much as a reminder; it was one of the three possessions of her parents she still had.

It was also still a massive fucking weapon.

She hadn't quite racked up the kill count her father had with it, but she was proficient enough with her daggers to not be in any real danger from bandits. Four well armed knights might be another story. She needed to be ready to run, in case the courier was no longer interesting in delivering the message he was paid to deliver and was instead looking to send a message of his own. She grabbed her mother's charm and put it on. It always felt as if it was slightly humming, but it had saved her life more times than she could count.

There was a knock at the door. She set her two packs outside the back of the small cabin and went to the door. She stepped carefully to ensure that she hadn't alerted the men outside to her location inside of the cabin. She then gently lifted a floorboard, and hid her father's sword and bow. She hoped she could return from them.

"Who is it?" Lia asked. "Whatever you're selling, we're not interested."

She stressed the 'we're' in that sentence, hoping that they might hesitate to attack if they knew she wasn't alone.

"We were told that one Magnolia Trevelyan was nearby," said the largest of the guards. "We have a message for her, it is about a matter that must be addressed now."

Shit, she thought. She hadn't heard her real name in three years. When she was working bounties she didn't use names and the three bartenders she counted amongst her friends called her Lia. Treva was the only one who knew who she actually was.

So, if she'd shot at a Courier, and her brother had heard of this, it would make sense to send the courier back with protection.

But four knights? Not cheap. Not that her brother concerned himself with trivial things like cost.

"We are sending her out," she said, attempting to adopt a different voice to maintain the ruse that she wasn't alone. "If we hear anything ungainly we will retaliate."

That sounded like something her brother would say.

The Guard sighed. "My Lady, we have been observing the cabin for the last 6 hours. You are alone. If we intended to attack you, it would have already happened."

Fuck, she thought. She wondered what she was going to look like to him. Unkempt red hair. Dark rings around her eyes. The scar along her jaw had healed nicely. The one on her lip would need awhile. Certainly not the noblewoman he was going to be expecting.

"One second,' she said, dropping the act. "Allow me the courtesy of looking somewhat presentable." Her soft, lilting accent always betraying her. She couldn't sound threatening, not really. It didn't really bother her often; most times it allowed for her to be underestimated.

Something she often used to her advantage.

She threw a shawl over her head, covering her slightly larger than average ears. There was nothing reasonable she could do with her face, so she wrapped a scarf around her neck to hide the tan she had from her leathers. She hadn't left the woods for some time, and didn't plan on leaving anytime soon. She'd fallen into a nice routine of training, drinking, reading and hunting. She wasn't excited about the prospect of it ending anytime soon.

She opened the door to a somewhat comical sight. Five men, all unquestionably larger than her (although in the case of the courier, the additional girth was more of a hindrance than an advantage). All of them looking extremely stern, and somewhat afraid. Her chest tightened, she calculated how quickly she could get to her father's sword resting against the wall behind the door.

The courier decided to step out from behind the large guard. "My Lady Trevelyan, This is a message from Chevalier Captain Malcolm Trevelyan. Due to the Mage Rebellion and subsequent destruction of the Chantry, your bloodline requires you to serve as the familial representative at the Conclave in service to the Chantry."

"Wait," she said shocked. "What's going on?"

The Courier paused, taking stock of her toned yet slight shape. "Madam, when was the last time you left these grounds?"

Maybe she looked a little rougher than she thought.

"A little over three months," she lied. It sounded better than the truth, which was that she'd been somewhat tipsy for the last six months and hadn't left the mountainside. She had some correspondence with Treva, but that was about it. The mages and templars had been fighting for awhile now. Magnolia only really cared about her brother, and Treva. Neither was a mage, or a templar. She didn't really have a dog in this fight.

Shit, the courier thought. He realized that she was going to be the bearer of a lot of bad news.

There wasn't much to that bad news. Other than the fact that the 'Mage Rebellion' of the last couple of years had escalated into a full on war that was probably going to lead to the end of the world if someone didn't intervene. Luckily that someone, Divine Justinia, called a meeting that was supposed to prevent the war from swallowing all of Thedas.

She also learned from some of the other nobles that most of the families in the Free Marches were sending their cast offs and black sheep. To put it another way, they were sending those they viewed as disposable. That wasn't exactly her situation. The Trevelyans were respected, but dying out. Malcolm was Magnolia's only living relative that she cared about, and his sons were too young to serve anything other than stolen pies from the servant's quarters. The rest of the family was basically useless. If Malcolm asked, it was important to him. Considering he'd never asked her for much, she always obliged when she could.

One of those noble black sheep was Edgar. After several drinks with Edgar she saw the way he eyed her. The way his hand casually brushed her thigh with every bump of the carriage. She didn't need much to look striking. A few nights sans alcohol had done wonders for her skin, and the whites of her eyes looked slightly less pink. She had powerful, toned legs and a tight midsection. She'd actually been in a few duels with men who'd claimed to be able to 'tame' her.

Her record was unblemished.

But the man appeared harmless. Promised to the Chantry, he was simply trying to live a little before taking his vows.

Still, she originally considered it luck to have found another noble castoff who was well stocked in wine. She figured she could probably maintain a steady buzz throughout what was definitely going to be a political snooze fest. All the nobles of Thedas walking around with their dicks out and length of rope for anyone willing to measure. Lia only agreed to this because her brother had done everything he could for her, including letting her run away when she did. He was twenty five years her senior, and harbored no ill-will towards her despite the fact that they only shared a father, not a mother.

They'd made camp by a town called Haven. The local brew had a bit of a kick to it, more so than the dwarven beers she'd been drinking. She passed out. Or blacked out. She wouldn't know until she woke up.

She awoke to the sight of a half naked man attempting to pull down her pants. It was Edgar, the man with the wine from the trip to Haven. She'd made it her mission to avoid him after the trip had concluded and he'd revealed himself to be less pious than originally thought. Especially when he revealed himself.

Considering the weakness of some men's constitution, she would later think that she should have killed him then, as laughing at the insignificance of his protrusion seemed to have been just as cutting. Still, after her rejection of his advances she'd made it her job to stay away from the man as bast as she could.

She'd thought she'd been successful. But here she was. Her shoes were off, strewn across the floor. One of her pauldrons was missing. She didn't have any of her things with her.

"What the plan now?" She asked, eyes half-lidded from not being fully cognizant.

"Uh..."the man said, backing away. "I was making sure the maiden was comfortable before retiring for the evening. I'm afraid we've both had too much to drink."

Bullshit. The tent that appeared between his legs wasn't very pronounced, but it was noticeable. Also, while she was pretending to still be out of it, she could tell he was very much in control of his faculties.

Fuck, she thought. She was unsure of what to do next. Vincent continued backing away, his left hand inches away from the door handle. He'd heard rumors about Magnolia having criminal connections, but wasn't thinking with his rational mind at the time.

"Wait," she said. "Don't go.

She said this as seductively as she could stomach. Who knows how many times he'd gotten away with it. Maybe this was his first time trying some shit like this. She couldn't know for sure. She didn't care though. He wasn't going to get the chance to do it again.

He looked visibly more relaxed. He came back towards the bed, confidence and determination was returning to those eyes she'd awoken to. She felt like a spider with a fly in its web. She wanted to throw up.

Edgar got close enough to drag his index finger along her tight stomach, and looked into her eyes. They were a bright, glittering green. He grinned when her body tensed at his touch. She smiled.

He smiled.

Moments passed.

There was a thud, and then nothing.

More moments passed. More thuds.

As Lia was mopping up the blood from the man's skull she noted the vestments he'd casually thrown on the dresser. He was a member of the Chantry, already. Not the noble castoff he pretended to be. She didn't remember what uniforms meant, but a man in the Chantry had just tried to have his way with her.

His crushed skull was not enough to placate her, but it would have to do. She noticed she wasn't in her quarters, and she saw nothing to suggest she was in his quarters either. He'd probably taken her to some small, dark area in the Chantry. For a moment she thought she'd heard something, and panicked.

She needed to cover this up. Fast. She'd taken his belt, and through it over a post in his room. She hung the man's corpse from the rafters and waited. It didn't take long.

His weight and the sturdiness of the post had been too much for the belt. It snapped and he fell to the floor, making it look as if he'd hung himself and then the belt snapped, causing him to hit his head. Hopefully when they found him he would be too decomposed to notice how bashed in his head really was. It wasn't her best work, but as long as she wasn't caught here, it didn't need to be. She felt around her neck for her mother's charm, held it for a moment, then disappeared.

As soon as she returned to a part of the Chantry she remembered, she released the charm. Magnolia heard a woman's screams for help echo through one of the hallways. Fearing what almost happened to her was happening to someone else, she ran down the corridor to the last door on the left when she walked through she was hit with a beam of green light and awoke on the smoldering ground. She stumbled towards two men walking her direction, and passed out.


	2. On Holes, and Nobility

**Note - I'm releasing the first two chapters together, usually the rest of them will come out once a week so I can stay reasonably ahead and consistent. I have about seven chapters ready, and I'm planning for 20. Also, there is some setup for some OC/AU stuff in this chapter so if something doesn't make sense and isn't critical to what's going on in the chapter, don't worry about it. Enjoy!**

 ** _Two - On Holes, and Nobility_**

Most of her body hurt. She remembered spiders, a woman, and then nothing. She cringed at the thought of spiders. She wondered why she thought of them. For some reason, she'd thought of her mother. She thought of her mother's parentage. She had been an elf, something most of House Trevelyan would swear was their most shameful secret. When Malcolm's mother died, Victor Trevelyan threw himself into his work, eventually uncovering a cycle of abuse in one of the Circle towers a few years later. After that situation, he left the Seekers and married one of the mages that had allegedly been involved. Outside of her brother, who was in his mid-twenties at the time, all of Magnolia's family abandoned Victor. She thought she'd never see anyone on that side of the family again. When her mother died, and her father went after those that killed her, she'd been dropped in the hands of her brother. She never saw him again, later learning that he'd been lost somewhere in Hissing Wastes.

The pain in her wrists brought her back to the present. Her hands were bound, in irons. Her vision was blurry. There was a flickering, unnatural green light occasionally lighting up the walls. The walls of a prison cell.

Shit, she thought. This could have been from anything.

Well, it was probably from killing the man who'd tried to sexually assault her.

She'd definitely been seen with him throughout their trip. And her desire to stay good and toasty throughout these proceedings had probably led some to believe that she was interested in the Chantry brother to be. There were four armed guards standing around her, not moving or making a sound. It was definitely for killing the Chantry brother.

At least, that was what Magnolia thought. Until she saw the unnatural green light was coming from her left hand.

"Uh...what?" Magnolia said.

A couple of things happened at the same time. The men drew their swords, pointing them at her. The green mark on her hand seemed to react defensively; crackling with magic. Two women entered the cell, one of them with a symbol she was incredibly familiar with.

The woman with the short hair is a Seeker of Truth. This was incredibly confusing to Magnolia, there was no reason for there to be a Seeker of Truth here. They didn't deal with petty crimes. According to her father, they were more like the Templars of the Templars, making sure that they stuck to the word of the Chantry and The Divine.

The Seeker asked why they shouldn't kill Magnolia. The Seeker told her that the Conclave had failed, that everyone was dead. Magnolia didn't say anything. Partially out of shock. And partially because she knew better than to argue with a Seeker. There was no arguing with her father, who loved her. Which, considering she didn't remember the man, was a fucking weird thing to know.

This Seeker had already decided what she was going to do, Magnolia knew it. When she was asked to explain the green mark on her hand, she told them she couldn't. She didn't remember getting back to her quarters from the bar. Which was true. She told them she awoke in a room in the temple, which was true. She told them she remembered a woman, which was true. Given what she'd said, it appeared that the had no idea about her and Edgar. Considering everyone at the temple had died, she didn't feel the need to take responsibility for an action no was was ever going to hear about.

Whatever she'd said seemed to placate the Seeker. The Seeker took her out into the light of day, and Magnolia saw a huge green hole in the sky. The Seeker, who she now knew was named Cassandra was telling her that the hole was called the Breach, and that while it was the largest hole, it wasn't the only one. As Magnolia stared into the breach, she heard something. Something was calling her, although it sounded like it was very far away.

Further than the breach, but also in it. Or behind it? Magnolia couldn't place it, but knew she'd heard it before.

The mark on her hand appeared to be sensing what she'd heard and reacted violently to it. The pain caused her to flail on the ground. It was extremely painful, but it also brought about an unusual sensation. One she knew she'd felt before. Cassandra told her that the mark was killing her. She also said it was possible for the mark to be used to stop the Breach. Magnolia looked at the hole in the sky, and thought about her newly reduced lifespan. If she was going to die anyway, she might as well try and stop whatever the fuck kind of magic caused this hole in the sky.

"I understand," Magnolia said. "I'll do what I can."

Cassandra looked confused, but her answer seemed to be met with approval.

While walking and discussing the Breach, another pulse happened and caused Magnolia to fall down in pain.

Again.

She wasn't making the best impression, but this pain was both unlike anything she'd ever felt and also incredibly familiar. She stood up, and they continued down the path. When they were crossing the bridge it was hit by something falling from the sky. The collision caused the bridge to collapse, and sent the pair of them tumbling down onto the frozen lake. Magnolia had heard bubbling, and assumed that the ice was cracking under their weight. But instead of water gushing up from underneath them, there were two demons that had appeared.

She'd fought demons only once before. A mage in Starkhaven accidentally summoned one. It was the smell that disturbed her. Once, while visiting a blacksmith with her brother, she'd seen a rat fall into the forge. It smelled horrible, and yet she'd consider that smell perfume compared to the one that was assaulting her senses currently. A quick inventory of her person revealed that she was defenseless. Luckily, there was a single dagger resting on a burning supply cache that had fallen. She took up the knife and made quick work of the demon. It was exhilarating; and also really strange. There was no reason for her to feel as strong as she did. The knife was a thin stiletto, yet she felt as if she could chop down an oak with it if necessary.

As soon as it was over, her relief was again replaced with trepidation as the Seeker turned her blade on her, a glittering piece of steel that was clearly more dangerous than the hastily built dagger Magnolia was in possession of. The Seeker asked her to disarm, and she did. The Seeker paused for a moment, conflicted. Then Cassandra told Magnolia to keep the weapon.

"That's surprising," said Magnolia.

"You have been surprising." Replied Cassandra. "I should remember you agreed to come willingly."

Cassandra handed Magnolia some potions. The two walked on in silence, which gave Cassandra time to think. She was impressed by what she'd just seen. Leliana's reports on the Trevelyan woman didn't say anything about her proficiency with weapons. It was strange for Leliana not to know something, especially something as peculiar as this. The woman was not small, but she was rather lean and from what Cassandra understood, a noble.

It was a minor miracle in Cassandra's eyes that the young noble knew which end to grasp. Perhaps her family had something to do with it, Cassandra thought. She'd thought she'd recognized the name, and sure enough there was a record of a Victor Trevelyan among the Seekers. Cassandra researched him while the prisoner was unconscious.

Seeker Captain Trevelyan was once at the center of a scandal in the Starkhaven Circle that involved a band of Templars who had been assaulting the mages in their charge. What happened depends on who you ask, with the mages stating that Seeker Captain Trevelyan had been assaulted by the Templars, and the Templars pointed their finger at the mages. Also there was a Dalish Clan involved, but Cassandra wasn't able to get anymore information on the incident. Not surprising, given her current standing with the Lord Seeker. In the end, five mages were transferred to the circle in Kirkwall. The offending Templars were scattered around the Circles, and soon after Victor left the Seeker order, with permission from Lord Seeker at the time. The official resignation cited a lack of faith in the work, something Cassandra couldn't understand. There was also her brother, the Chevalier Captain Malcolm Trevelyan. He could have played just as big a role in her abilites.

Her train of thought was broken up by another battle. This time they were outnumbered 4 to 2. Still, Magnolia made short work of a wraith, then jumped about 10 feet down and drove the dagger through the top of the second demon with a slightly crazed look in her eye. It almost gave Cassandra pause. This woman was no noble, that much was clear. And surely no Seeker or Chevalier taught her to fight like that.

After the fight, Cassandra paused.

"Where did you learn to fight?" Asked Cassandra.

"I learned from a bunch of different people. My brother tried to teach me the basics of swords and shields but I never picked it up." Said Magnolia flippantly.

"The former chevalier captain? Malcolm Trevelyan? " Probed Cassandra.

"My brother," Magnolia said with a laugh. "The last important branch of the Trevelyan tree."

The corner of Cassandra's mouth twitched. The prisoner was making jokes after killing demons. Definitely not a noble, unless the Free Marcher's form of nobility was different the the Orlesian one she'd grown accustomed to. Even most in Nevarra were fat, only doing what was required to keep up appearances.

"He was a good trainer," Magnolia continued. "He started teaching me soon after I came to live with...after he returned." Magnolia added that last part hastily.

Cassandra stopped walking. This was the first time she'd observed the prisoner tell an obvious lie. But why lie about this? The look on her face suggested she knew that the lie she'd attempted to tell had not been believed.

"Trevelyan. You have done well not to lie to me, but you're lying to me now." Stated Cassandra. "I will have the truth. Did he not..."

"I don't know what you're about to say, and I doubt you really want to say it. I have told you everything I can, and I assure you my familial situation has nothing to do with the shit that's going on now." snapped Magnolia. The tone was harsher than she intended. Magnolia regretted losing her temper, but also couldn't bring herself to apologize. As of right now, as far as she could tell the Seeker's plan was to take her to the Breach and see what happened. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that if it was required, the Seeker would toss her into the swirling maelstrom without a second thought.

Cassandra looked stunned for a moment. This was the first time she'd heard the prisoner say something with any sort of malice in her voice. Between this, and the way the young woman fought, Cassandra decided it was best not to push this line of questioning. Magnolia, the prisoner, had done everything she was asked to do. Despite Cassandra's creeping suspicions that this woman had nothing to do with what happened at the conclave, she was still their most obvious suspect.

She did not want to antagonize the woman, and then have to kill the only person that might be able to stop the breach.

"Maybe now is not the time. " Conceded Cassandra. "There is much to do. As you say, your familial situation has nothing to do with the shit that's going on now."

Magnolia stared at the Seeker with a weary look in her eye.

"Okay," said Magnolia. "On the off-chance I survive all of this, please never repeat this Seeker."

The Seeker nodded slowly. Magnolia's hand flared with a small green light, but the pain didn't cause her to fall to the ground. Either it wasn't as bad, or Magnolia was doing her best to hide the pain.

"My father was one of your order. Seeker Victor Trevelyan," began Magnolia. "He was told to authorize the rite of tranquility on a elven mage named Sylvira. She'd been captured by the Chantry and was the first of her refused, and freed her. Then he left the order, the two found each other, and two years later I was born. Then they died. Probably. I lived my my half-brother Malcolm until I was sixteen, then I ran off. I've been on my own since then, until my brother asked me to represent what's left of the family at The Conclave."

Cassandra looked floored. So much of what they thought they'd known was wrong.

"Why...why tell me this now?" Asked Cassandra incredulously.

Magnolia stared at the dagger for a moment. The hilt resembled ironbark, but was just some sort of fortified oak or mahogany. It looked like the type of mass produced trash most bandits wielded.

"Because I'm probably going to die," said Magnolia with a sigh. "My parents are dead, my only relative that gave a shit will probably never see me again, and if he does they'll probably tell him I'm responsible for all this. At this point it makes as much sense to tell you as it does to hide it."

Cassandra stared blankly.

"Besides," Magnolia added with a wink, "you asked."

The two women walked silently for a moment, not saying anything until they heard fighting happening above them. The mark flared, and shined with renewed intensity. Cassandra said that they were close and began to sprint up the mountainside. Magnolia was not too far behind.


	3. Meetings in Shadowy Places

Three - Meetings in Shadowy Places

The cabin Leliana had decided to use for this meeting was selected for a few reasons. First, there were two entrances. Both of which could be seen from almost every point in the room. Second, it was just out of the way enough that they could talk and not be concerned about any of the townsfolk accidentally walking by. There was the meeting room, but it was too small for the amount of people she'd called in.

The breach was stable. Still glowing in the sky, but no longer active. The prisoner was able to stop the progress, but not completely close it. And according to Cassandra, they shouldn't think of her as 'the prisoner.' Some had taken to calling her something rather blasphemous. Leliana hadn't interfered, mostly because she wasn't sure if this new title could be used to help the Inquisition.

As she the Inquisition's Spymaster, Leliana needed to compare notes with the others they'd gathered. The main focus of this meeting was Magnolia Trevelyan. The young noble was proving to be more complex than originally estimated. For starters, they weren't exactly sure how old she was. An embarrassing admission for a Spymaster, but there was no official record of her birth, or her existence before her eighth birthday. In the Free Marches, some said that she was actually the daughter of Malcolm Trevelyan. According to Josephine, this rumor was dismissed as the scandal of her father, Victor Trevelyan, had been widely known. Apparently, the Seeker had quit the order, abandoned his family and ran off with an apostate. A tragically beautiful cliche that always ended up more tragically cliche than beautiful.

According to Cassandra and Varric, Trevelyan had been incredibly skilled, and ridiculously fast on the battlefield, doing more damage with one dagger than most could do with two. She was also resourceful; Varric claimed to see her turn a lyrium potion into a makeshift grenade with a sprig of deathroot she found on the path to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

Solas said that he was impressed with how composed she was, considering what they'd learned. She clearly wasn't involved in what had happened, she merely stumbled upon it if the reflections of the fade were accurate. Cullen was impressed with how she stood resolute against the Pride Demon, although it was clear she was terrified. Based on the excessively detailed accounts of her form on the battlefield, it was clear that he was impressed by other things as well. Something else for Leliana to keep an eye on.

She'd been out for four days. Trevelyan hadn't been able to close the breach, but it wasn't spreading anymore. Not the breach, and not the mark on her hand. According to Adan, she'd be waking up soon. According to Solas, she should have awoken yesterday. Leliana needed to consolidate information so that they knew how to move forward. Preferably, she'd be the repository for that information.

Cassandra, Commander Cullen and Josephine were all prompt arrivals, as was Adan. Varric and Solas came a few moments after that. There was a sound at the backdoor, but when she looked out she saw one of her men casually leaning against the wall, eating an apple with a thin stiletto with an ironbark handle.

"I'll make this quick," Leliana said. "We need to come to an understanding about Trevelyan. To do that, I propose we share all of the information we have on her." Leliana originally planned to hold back information of her own, but decided against it as right now she needed everyone's full cooperation and didn't want to risk being caught in a lie and sowing distrust at a time like this.

Varric laughed. "I'll go first; I've got nothing. She fights like a emotionless lunatic, yet I saw her shed a tear for the fallen soldiers we found in the pass. She seemed to like Bianca, which says something about her having good taste, but that's all I've got."

Leliana smirked. Varric was good at reading people, but bad at putting it all together. Or maybe he didn't care about putting it all together. It probably made for better stories to stick with general information and make up the details as you go along. Between her 'good taste' regarding Bianca and her ability to make a grenade on the battlefield, it was clear she was probably a mercenary. Or at the very least, trained by one.

Josephine coughed, which Leliana recognized as her attempting to get the attention of the group. Cassandra and Cullen were leaning against the far wall of the cabin, and something looked off.

Just for a moment. It was as if Leliana didn't want to look, so she didn't. Her train of thought was interrupted when she realized Josephine had been speaking for a minute.

"...I then went back through my records and noted that I did attend several parties that Malcolm Trevelyan attended, but I never saw his sister." Said Josephine sullenly. "It wasn't for lack of trying, though. For a time there was much talk about the Trevelyans, and not the kind they were known for. Lady Trevelyan died while Victor Trevelyan was with the Seekers. After an incident, it was said that he had left the Seekers. Soon after that, rumor was that he was living with a witch of the wilds. That's all I know, I'm afraid."

Leliana was impressed; none of this was necessarily new information. The witch of the wilds part was wrong; her reports suggested he'd ran off with one of the Mages that he'd been investigating. However, it was impressive that Josie had been able to gather all this on her own.

Cullen had relatively little to share as he'd said little to her. Leliana also thought he was upset still upon learning that the decision to take the mountain pass had been Trevelyan's. He was eager to listen, but had little to share.

Cassandra was behaving strangely. Not making eye contact. Fidgeting. The last time she'd been like this Leliana had found her reading one of Varric's novels. The romance one. It had been amusing then, but now it felt like she was hiding something important.

Before Leliana could press her, a dwarven scout ran in. A dwarven scout that was supposed to be on her way to the Hinterlands.

"Harding," said Leliana curtly. "What are you doing back in Haven? Your orders were to scout the Hinterlands for the Inquisition."

Scout Harding looked like she'd seen a darkspawn. Leliana's face was always the mask of serenity. But Magnolia noticed the bright biting glimmer in her eyes. She'd heard the tales of Sister Nightingale, the rumors that she'd fought with the Hero of Ferelden. The elven mage died killing the archdemon, and it was said that Leliana was romantically involved with her.

"Sister Leliana," the dwarf stammered. "I returned with an elf who claimed to be looking for a woman who's description matched the herald of...I mean the prisoner."

Magnolia coughed on a bit of apple, but of course no one noticed her at the moment. She wondered what the dwarven woman was about to call her.

Leliana sighed. Even her own people were beginning to call the woman 'the Herald of Andraste,' something Leliana wasn't sure if they could use to their advantage yet. If this woman was looking for Trevelyan, she was of use to Leliana. If they were friends, or lovers, than this may play to her advantage more than she'd hoped.

"Is the woman with you? Bring her in." Said Leliana quickly.

"I let the woman go with the other elven servant to see the...the prisoner," said Harding meekly.

There was an uneasy silence, as Harding realized her mistake the moment the words were out of her mouth.

It was Commander Cullen who broke the silence.

"Scout," he said hoarsely. "Did you really let a woman you don't know into the camp, and allow her access to our unconscious captive?"

"She is not our captive," Cassandra said suddenly. "She has been forthcoming...with her assistance against the breach." This caused everyone to look at her. She'd been acting strangely, and her defense of the prisoner was unusual and awkwardly worded.

"Cassandra," said Leliana. "Are you…."

Before Leliana could deal with this new situation another issue occurred. There was a commotion outside as two elven women had attempted to run into the meeting, causing Cullen and Cassandra to both draw their weapons. When Cassandra opened the door, she saw the man Leliana had assigned to watch the door holding a small black haired elf by the throat as he had his boot on the back of one of the servants she'd assigned to watch over Trevelyan.

"Sister Leliana," the man said with a huff, "I caught these two about to barge into your meeting. I've no idea why, stupid sodding knife-ears."

Suddenly, Magnolia appeared in front of him, with an obscenely sharp knife pointed at his throat.

Literally, appeared. Out of thin air.

"One way or another you're going to let go of my friend," Magnolia said venomously, allowing the tip of the dagger to trace the outline of his adam's apple.

Everyone in attendance recoiled. The supposedly unconscious woman was very conscious, and very much about to behead one of Leliana's newest agents. The man set the elven woman down, slowly.

"Also," she said harshly, "remove your foot from the back of my other friend."

The man did as he was told. Both elven women went to stand near their protector. Leliana processed this image in her head for a while, as she was sure everyone in attendance did.

Trevelyan didn't seem squeamish, or even concerned at her current predicament. For all intents and purposes, she'd just openly attacked a member of the Inquisition.

To save elves.

This is not normal behavior for anyone, noted Leliana. especially not a noble. Leliana was not someone that thought that one's race made them less than, but she'd always assumed she was in the minority in this respect.

Then again, nothing about Magnolia Trevelyan had been typical.

"Lia," said the unknown elf. "I didn't come here to have you turn all these nice dangerous people against us."

"You also didn't come here to be strangled to death," replied Magnolia cooly. "Treva, stand next to our other friend. Make sure she's okay."

Her eyes danced back and forth between Leliana and the man. The agent, despite attempting to appear cool and collected, had realized who'd threatened him and was now unsure of how the Spymaster would react.

After a moment, Leliana spoke.

"It is clear this this is a misunderstanding," said Leliana slowly. "There is no reason to see this go further, Lady Trevelyan." Magnolia winced at the title, something Leliana took note of. Appealing to her nobility wasn't the correct move.

What she suddenly noticed was the dagger Magnolia was holding, more specifically the hilt. It bore the symbol of the Seekers of Truth, and there was only one Seeker of Truth in Haven. When she looked back at Cassandra's belt, everything began to make sense.

Sort of. It was worth a shot, and Leliana didn't have any other moves to make at the moment.

"How long had you been in there?" Leliana said, gesturing to the cabin they'd just met in.

Josephine and Cullen looked confused, while Solas and Varric exchanged knowing glances.

"Pretty much the whole time," said Magnolia, not taking her eyes off Leliana and the man that had held Treva by the throat moments earlier. "I traded one of your guardsmen a dagger I found near the breach for an apple. And his coin purse, but he didn't notice that."

She grinned with that last statement, and Leliana was able to see that she was relaxing, a bit. Which was good, as the last thing they needed was a fight to break out between the 'Herald of Andraste' and the 'Rebel Inquisition.' That story writes itself, and it was a bad one.

"How does it work, your ability?" Asked Solas.

Magnolia stared at him for a moment. He seemed to always be deep in thought, as if he was half here and half somewhere else. Any interest he had in her was strictly academic, and her interest in him didn't extend past his ability to create barriers.

"I don't know," admitted Magnolia. "Sometimes I'm not sure if its working. It's not me, it's this." She gestured at the small necklace with the white crystal at the end. Solas's eyes went wide.

"Do...do you know what that is?" His voice shaking.

Leliana now turned to face Solas.

"What is it?" She asked the elven mage.

Solas looked at her, clearly bewildered. "Such a thing was a simple trinket during the time of the ancient elves. Now, it could be incredibly powerful. From the time when all elves were mages. They would impart abilities they no longer needed or used into such items so that they could learn new spells, opting instead to wear the charm whenever they wanted access to the ability or spell. I do not know how one has survived this long, or how you're able to use it."

Magnolia looked at the charm for a moment, then tucked it back into her shirt. "Like I said," she said impatiently. "It was my mother's. It was her mother's before that and they're both elves, so no, I didn't steal it if that's what you're thinking."

Everyone fell silent. Josephine contemplated the rumors she'd heard about the Trevelyan family, seemingly confirmed by the daughter of Victor Trevelyan herself. There especially wouldn't be anyway to tell with regards to Magnolia Trevelyan herself; the majority of elf-blooded humans didn't look any different.

"What does it do, exactly?" Asked Solas. "Clearly you've put some thought into it."

"Why the sudden interest in the charm?" Asked Cassandra. "Do you think it is related to her mark in some way?"

Solas nodded. "The mark was clearly intended for a mage. For anyone to have any sort of control over it, they would have to have at least some latent magical ability. And for anyone to use such a charm, they'd have to have some relation to my people. To elves."

"Yup, elf blooded." Magnolia said, with no regret in her voice. "I am what I am, and I'd defend my fellow 'knife-ears' even if I wasn't."

With that the man who'd originally uttered the slur trembled.

Leliana took all of this information in, ensuring to capture every detail for further review. Cassandra and Cullen had lowered their weapons, but not put them away. Varric was leaning against a barrel, watching it all play out. Josephine had her board and was furiously scribbling notes. Solas stared at Trevelyan as if he were attempting to see through her.

Her agent was currently trying his best not to piss himself as Magnolia kept occasionally staring at him as if she wasn't completely sure she wasn't going to kill him yet. Leliana also noticed that the young woman was still keeping herself between the two elven women. A natural protector, even if the girl hadn't noticed it yet. In this moment she took stock of the young woman, her crimson hair was not unlike Leliana's, but that was where the similarities ended. Despite Leliana's looks, she was nearing forty. The young rogue in front of them hadn't seen twenty five summers, neither had the two women she was protecting.

"How old are you?" Asked Leliana softly.

Magnolia's face twitched as Leliana realized she must have just hit a sore spot for the woman. The elf that Trevelyan had referred to as Treva nudged her, and the two exchanged glances. It was clear to Leliana that their relationship was not a romantic one, but a sisterly bond.

"I don't actually know," conceded Magnolia. "I ran away from Malcolm's estate when I thought I was sixteen, but I later learned that he'd just made up a birthday for me because I didn't have one. I usually say I'm between 21 and 24, depending on who's asking. For you, 24."

Leliana smirked at the glibness of Trevelyan, as well as her relative calm given the tricky situation she was still in. Yet, this display gave Leliana more than she'd originally hoped from, and straight from the 'Herald's' mouth.

"Well then," said Leliana. "Let's come to an arrangement. My agent here will apologize for the rough treatment of our friends here and you will accept his apology. In exchange, he will keep his life, as I can tell you haven't made up your mind about trying to kill him yet."

The agent began to relieve himself in his trousers as his fate was mulled over.

Magnolia looked deep in thought for a second, but it was Treva who replied.

"She'll take it," the small elf said quickly.

There was a flash of anger in Magnolia's eyes, but only for a moment. A few more glances and it seems it had been decided.

"These terms are agreeable," Magnolia finally said. "Provided this particular agent be given an assignment that keeps him as far from me as possible."

Leliana nodded, and the agent did as well. Perhaps a little too fervently.

And with that, Magnolia lowered Cassandra's dagger and relinquished it back to the Seeker. Upon realizing that Magnolia had been wielding her dagger, the woman blushed in a way Leliana had not seen before. Varric looked as if he was going to die from laughing so hard, which Magnolia laugh, which de-escalated the situation dramatically.

"I'm telling you Ruby," said Varric. "That was priceless."

Magnolia paused, looking at Treva and then back at Varric.

"What did you call me?" Magnolia asked with a smirk.

Varric suddenly looked nervous. "I said...Ruby? Not a fan?"

Magnolia laughed. It was a soft sound. Musical. It definitely didn't match her actions, but nothing seemed to make sense about her.

"You know what?" Magnolia said. "That's great. Much better than 'Maggie' or 'Lia.' Everybody, call me that forever."

Magnolia, who'd been referred to as 'Maggie,' 'Lia,' and a couple other shittier nicknames had a new one.

Ruby.

Ruby Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste.


	4. The Recruiter of Andraste

Four - The Recruiter of Andraste

As much as good as Ruby and the rest of the Inquisition had been able to do, they still had a serious problem. Well, several serious problems. If you asked Cassandra or Cullen, they might say that the continued existence of the breach was the main concern. Leliana seemed chiefly concerned with finding out who caused the breach. Josephine was too busy making sure the Inquisition had the power to do what it wanted to help decide what was best for it. Ruby ensured that her friend Treva had a job at Flissa's bar, and made sure to keep the bar open by drinking at it every day.

Eventually everyone in Haven got used to seeing the Herald of Andraste a little sauced. Josephine recommended that Flissa and Treva begin watering down her drinks, but the dark look in Treva's eyes when that was suggested told her that may not be the wisest course of action.

Naturally, decisions began to fall to the Herald. First it was little things, when to head out, who would accompany her, that sort of thing. Then, she started making moves of her own on behalf of the Inquisition. This wasn't seen as a bad thing, as there had been cause for her actions and all could see the merits in her decisions. Sometimes there were disagreements, but they were usually either won by Ruby or conceded by her.

A particularly funny moment occurred when Josephine almost fainted because Ruby had requested that Leliana send assassins after her distant relatives that were throwing around her name and role in the Inquisition to win arguments at parties. Cullen laughed, weakly, once he was somewhat certain that the Herald was joking. Still, the joke led to a discussion that led to Leliana's people spreading rumors that the Inquisition was considering sending assassins after those who used the Herald's name out of turn. Things soon quieted down.

Ruby's position in the Inquisition was also difficult to understand, as she was many things to many different people. She treated Treva and Flissa like sisters, laughing, gossiping and generally making a mess of the Tavern.

She hounded Leliana for archery lessons, which were quickly abandoned once it was clear that Leliana had nothing to teach her. Cassandra had gone from wanting her dead, to thinking she should be worshipped, to treating her like a little sister. The first time Ruby called Cassandra 'Mom,' the Seeker vibrated with rage. Now, it barely earned an annoyed scoff. Varric took her under his wing, teaching her how to pick locks faster, and tell shit whiskey from the good stuff. At times, Haven felt like a home; which was not what she would have expected three months ago.

There were also new members of the Herald's traveling party. Ruby hadn't thought to ask permission to recruit on behalf of the Inquisition, and no one told her she wasn't allowed to, so she did. On the Storm Coast, Ruby had run into a qunari named Iron Bull. He led The Chargers, an organization Leliana had already been somewhat interested in acquiring. Apparently he had a penchant for redheads and based on the way Ruby was acting around him, she wasn't against the horns.

When news got back to him, the Commander protested, perhaps a little too loudly. However, he was placated when he learned that The Iron Bull and Ruby had met before, as they'd both worked for a nobleman in Starkhaven once. Leliana assured the Commander that there was no fraternization for him to be worried about, insinuating that the Commander didn't want competition.

This was speculation that led the man to bluster about the appearance of impropriety. Even Josephine chuckled. The Commander hadn't done a good enough job to hide the crush he'd developed on the 'Herald,' although if Ruby noticed it, she certainly wasn't doing anything about it.

Warden Blackwall, a sturdily built Grey Warden, joined their ranks after Leliana had told Ruby to seek him out. As it would turn out, this was the man he should have been concerned about. Ruby was enthralled by his stories of the Wardens, even if they felt a little too fanciful. A little too romantic.

Varric and Solas both noticed this; but Warden Blackwall seemed to be the best at keeping Ruby light-hearted and goofy, which was universally accepted as the best version of her. The alternative, the easily annoyed, hot-headed assassin, was not something they wanted to see often.

They'd also gained Vivienne, the former First Enchanter of...well, Ruby wasn't really paying attention. She'd eventually learn that Vivienne was actually quite powerful politically when she wasn't being a throbbing cunt.

Ruby didn't think too much about the long term problem of mages and templars but the woman was so grating she found herself at odds on principle. The woman droned on and on about loyalty and perseverance to the Chantry. They weren't really in a position to turn away anyone, so when the woman inevitably offered her services, Ruby accepted. Cassandra seemed pleased, but when Ruby made a joke about why, Cassandra openly swore. Then she claimed that the Maker had sent Ruby specifically to test her.

This led to a particularly interesting situation. Attempting to travel with all seven of them, plus the various scouts and requisition officers was unwieldy. Ruby mentioned off-hand that she preferred to work in smaller groups so that they could cover more ground. Leliana and Cullen supported this decision. It was decided that Ruby would have one group, and Cassandra would lead the other. Cassandra's group consisted of herself, Vivienne, and a former Templar named Lysette. When the situation called for it, this group was assisted by The Iron Bull and his Chargers. This left Ruby's main party as herself, Blackwall, Varric and Solas. The three men got along well enough, and all of them seemed to be hiding something, which kept everything nice and tidy and on the surface.

Just like Ruby liked it.

Or at least, just how she thought she liked it. Truthfully she'd enjoyed the last few months. Since they'd mostly been spent battling demons, templars, mages and various other assholes, she wondered what this said about her. She wondered what others would say if they knew their 'Herald' was a whiskey guzzling murderous lush.

That's why her third conversation with Blackwall caught her off guard.

They were camping, a day's walk from Redcliffe. Ruby had been traveling with Varric, Blackwall and Solas for a while now, and she'd felt more comfortable around them than she did around the rest of the Inquisition forces.

Ruby acted younger around them; not pretending to care about the pretentious trappings of nobility when she was covered with dirt and grime from the long road. Varric particularly enjoyed this Ruby; Solas noted that dwarf had an almost paternal edge when talking about her. Varric shrugged and said that she reminded him of the best parts of two of his dear friends. He wasn't sure who Rivaini and Daisy were, but Solas knew that the dwarf loved them. Solas and Varric often opted to take first watch of the camp, so when they did Blackwall and Ruby went off into the woods to hunt more rams for the refugees. And for breakfast.

This is what led them to their conversation. Moonlight peeking through treetops as a babbling brook whispered sweet promises of nature's renewal. The sounds of nature around them provided an utopian soundscape. It was a majestically romantic scene for Blackwall and Ruby. Or, at least it could have been if she didn't open her mouth.

"Maker's balls," she grunted. "These blades will be dull after plowing through all this goddamn ram hide." As she said this, she skinned the ram with a clean practiced motion. Blackwall admired her precision, her talent.

He admired more than that, more so than he liked to admit. But he didn't know her, and didn't know how much he'd have to share to get to know her.

"So," he began. "It is night."

Inwardly, he groaned. Years on his own hadn't helped his social awkwardness. This was going to be painful.

"Yup," she said shortly. "Grey Warden abilities for observation have definitely not been oversold."

Blackwall raised an eyebrow in her direction. She'd been cocky at times, overly sarcastic, but never with him. She seemed to have a deep respect for the Grey Wardens, more so than even Blackwall was used to. But outside of his stories, she'd never seemed that interested in him beyond ensuring he was between her and whatever force wanted to kill her.

"You seemed interested in them before," he said with a huff. "If I was boring you, I'd have liked you to say something." He didn't hide his disapproval, slight as it may be.

She stopped skinning the ram and looked at him. Had he been a man of weaker constitution he would have withered under the sight of her penetrating gaze. It was intense, as usual. Her brilliant green eyes were shining brightly, as usual. They reminded him of the veilfire they'd witnessed earlier in the week. But there was a softness to it as well, which was unusual.

"I didn't…" Ruby began. " I didn't mean for you to think that. I was joking."

The earnestness in her voice made her soft accent that much more musical.

"Well, then." Blackwall said quickly. "I apologize, my lady, for jumping to such conclusions."

Ruby attempted to hide the twitch when he referred to her as 'My Lady,' but she wasn't able to prevent him from noticing.

"Why do you twitch at your title?" Asked Blackwall earnestly.

"I'm not one," Ruby replied simply.

"What do you mean?" Asked Blackwall. "I don't mean to pry...it's just that you don't flinch at arrows an inch from your face. It seems strange that you would recoil from a honorific."

Ruby took off her quiver and bow, and sat it down next to the slain ram. She then took out a waterskin filled with 'not water' and took a long swig before offering it to Blackwall. He took an apprehensive sniff first, and then coughed. He'd expected wine, not whiskey.

She giggled for a moment, then covered her mouth. She turned red with embarrassment, and Blackwall noted how innocent she looked when her cheeks matched the crimson of her hair. Then he remembered that he'd seen her covered in Templar blood after the they routed those bastards on the east road. She'd looked decidedly less innocent then.

"Don't try to avoid the topic," Blackwall pressed. The statement was more for himself than it was for her, as he didn't mind if they kept things light and breezy if it meant more moments like this. But he intended to know the woman he was going to follow. He knew better than most what happened when you didn't know why you were following who you were following.

Ruby looked sad for a moment, realizing the moment had passed. She sat down on the ground, leaning against the partially skinned ram. It was a slightly chilly night. The cool air caused it to look like their was steam coming off the freshly killed ram. She looked up at him, green eyes peeking out from under stands of red hair that was no longer pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her leathers were scuffed and scratched, and she smelled like blood and alcohol. She looked at peace, which Blackwall found confusing.

"Well, Warden Blackwall." Said Ruby suddenly. "You missed the whole 'Get to know your Herald' meeting, so I'll give you a chance. Five questions. No follow ups; if you ask me what how old I am twice, that's two questions. I suggest you choose wisely."

"Well then, Herald." Blackwall said slowly. "I imagine Ruby isn't your real name."

It was Ruby's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"You don't know it?"

"I hadn't thought to ask anyone except you."

"You'd waste a question on something you can ask anyone?"

"I want to hear the answer from you. If this is how I get it the question isn't wasted."

Ruby smiled, a soft one. Treva always said Ruby would try and bed the first Grey Warden she'd met, and while Blackwall wasn't the first Warden she'd met, he was certainly the first one she'd been interested in.

"Magnolia Trevelyan," Ruby said. "That one's for free."

Blackwall frowned. "How'd you get Ruby from that?"

Ruby smiled. "Varric gave me that nickname a few months ago."

"You just all of a sudden decided people were going to call you Ruby?"

Ruby's smile faded a bit. "People were going to call me whatever they wanted. I decided I was going to answer to Ruby."

Blackwall paused. There was wisdom in that, more wisdom than he cared to think about at this time.

"Careful Warden," said Ruby with a smirk. "That's two questions, and it should have been three. Unless you're writing a book about my name I suggest you ask me something else."

"Okay," Blackwall said. "Why did you say you weren't a lady? You've done nothing that wasn't honorable and deserving of the title."

Ruby scoffed. "Flattery is nice, but you've seen me drenched in blood, muck and whatever the fuck else those fade holes throw at me. Also, ladies don't fucking curse. So there's that." She flipped a dagger in the air nonchalantly, catching it by the side of the blade without cutting herself.

"I've seen you dive into muck, blood and whatever the fuck else those fade holes throw at you. And you did it so that someone else wouldn't have to." Blackwall said, letting his emotions get the better of him near the end of that statement.

She looked at him with an expression he didn't quite understand.

"And all the important ladies curse like fucking sailors," he added.

She snorted, easily the least lady-like thing he'd seen her do but after that speech it would probably ruin the mood to point it out now.

"Fine," she said with a laugh. "My idea of a 'Lady' is a woman who finds herself defined by something more than what she does. I don't want a title, or a name to mean anything to me. I want to be me, and be judged by my actions. And my ability to drink almost any human under the table."

Blackwall laughed, it was a deep and hearty sound. Like hot stew on cold winter's day.

"Fair enough, Ruby. Fair enough," he conceded. The two gathered all the meat they could and began to head back to came. They were about fifteen minutes away, and with any luck they'd be asleep in the next hour or so.

"Two questions left, Blackwall." Said Ruby teasingly. "What's it going to be? If you don't get them out before were back, you forfeit them."

Blackwall turned to face her, and the abruptness of his movement made her stop.

"Why turn this into a game?" He asked, more critically than he meant to. "I want to know you, and I think you want to know me too. So why make it a contest?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. But she looked stunned. Blackwall was beyond upset with himself. Everything had been nice and somewhat light and he had to fuck it up.

Ruby looked deflated, but her response caught him off guard.

"I make things a game because it's easier," she said. Her voice was as soft as a whisper. "It's easier to make things a game because when you lose, it's less important. I've been on my own for a while now, and even when I've been with people I haven't felt 'with them.' Outside of Treva and my brother, I've never really trusted anyone. It's starting to feel different. I'm starting to feel different, but I guess I still fall back on old tricks."

Both of them were silent for a moment. Then, as if nothing happened they both started walking back towards the camp. Blackwall stole a few glances at Ruby, and saw that her eyes were shining more than usual. The dull emeralds looked damp.

Wet.

They'd gotten close enough to hear Varric telling Solas a story about someone named Fenris when Blackwall stopped her again. Ruby tried to keep walking but he got in front of her, stopping her movement. Her eyes flashed dangerously, and Blackwall remembered that she was not someone you got in the way of.

He could see it now. She was so many things to so many people, and she didn't know what she was to herself.

"Blackwall…" she whispered, "I…"

"...promised to answer five questions? Not four?" Blackwall interrupted softly.

She stared at him, no longer angry but still apprehensive.

"One left," she said with a sigh. "Let's have it."

"If I hadn't fucked it up a few moments ago and tried to kiss you, would you have tried to kill me?" Asked Blackwall boldly.

Ruby's eyes went wide for a moment, and then softened.

She gave Blackwall the sweetest grin he'd ever received. It was just the left side of her mouth; he may have gone weak at the knees if she'd given him a proper smile. He'd never want for anything sweet again, as long as he was given one of those a week. A month. At this rate, he'd settle for a year.

"I wouldn't have tried to kill you," Ruby said with a smile. "But I may not have kissed you back."

"Want to know which one would have hurt worse?" Asked Blackwall with a grin.

"Sorry, Ser Warden." She said sarcastically. "That's a sixth question. Better luck next time."


	5. Parental Advisory

Five - Parental Advisory

A few days after they talked, Blackwall had two conversations at camp. Neither conversation was with Ruby, much to the chagrin of Blackwall. Both times the conversations just happened to occur while Ruby was off hunting or training. Blackwall didn't need need to be city guardsman to work out what was happening here.

This was a coordinated attack.

Apparently the men they'd been traveling with had noticed the Herald's mood recently seemed to be intrinsically related to how much she spoke with Blackwall. This was something Blackwall had noticed too, although he'd partially assumed it was in his head. He'd hoped it wasn't, but hadn't thought that he'd be that lucky.

When Solas approached him, he knew what this conversation was going to be about. The elven mage stared at Ruby constantly; for a while he thought Solas lusted after her. But after several conversations with the mage, Blackwall wasn't sure the elf had it in him. Maybe if the Herald had been some sweet innocent elven lass with big doe eyes, Solas would have been all over her. But the Herald was not these things. Well, she was some of those things, some of the time.

"Ser Warden," Solas said stiffly. More formal than he normally addressed Blackwall. It reminded him of the first time he met Solas. He felt like he was being studied, assessed. There was a moment of panic when he thought that maybe the mage had powers of intuition; that he could ferret out the subtle lies and falsehoods. But as he spent time with Solas, he realized that the elf was hiding as much as he was showing. They all were. But it was clear they all were getting to a point where that wouldn't be possible.

"Solas," Blackwall said gruffly. "I'm afraid you haven't given me a title that I can throw back at you."

Solas chuckled softly, which was the man's equivalent of a belly laugh. "I'm afraid I don't have one, not one that translates well into the King's Tongue."

"Well, then. Solas it is." Blackwall said with a laugh. "Maybe then we could pretend that I don't have one as well."

"Maybe we wouldn't be pretending," Solas said softly.

The air grew cold and sharp. Blackwall tensed, but didn't do anything else for fear that it might spring a trap.

"What do you mean by that?" Asked Blackwall, as innocently as he could manage. The two men looked out over the cliff the campsite was on. Off in the distance, Blackwall could barely make out Varric and Ruby near the river. Well, Varric could be seen. Ruby was essentially just running around trying to hunt fennecs with daggers. From this distance, all Blackwall actually saw was a black and red blur moving across the plains of the Hinterlands.

"Admittedly I do not know as much about your order as I'd like to," said Solas. "However, I find you different than the others of your kind I have met."

"You're not exactly the prototype for the modern elf yourself Solas," Blackwall responded quickly.

It was Solas's turn to flinch, but Blackwall misinterpreted the reaction.

"True enough," he conceded. "Yet one thing that I have observed about your order is the nature of your recruits. More specifically, where they are recruited."

Oh. This again, thought Blackwall. This was annoying, but manageable. This wasn't the conversation he wasn't ready to have.

"Will you allow me to hit the usual points, Solas?" Asked Blackwall exasperatedly.

Solas nodded.

"Okay," Blackwall began. "Some of the Wardens are recruited from jail cells. Some of our order came to be Wardens to escape political persecution. Some of us are looking for redemption through service. Some wanted to find a noble purpose. We're an order like any other, with diverse backgrounds. After the joining, whatever we were is irrelevant. What matters is that we are now Grey Wardens."

Solas was quiet for a moment. Well, he was always quiet but there was a deliberateness to his silence that was inescapable.

"Which one were you?" Asked Solas.

"I wanted to be more than I was," Blackwall. "That meant everything to me."

"Meant?" Solas pressed. "As in past tense? To say that it doesn't mean anything to you anymore?"

The man was perceptive, thought Blackwall. He shook his head. "Not to suggest that I no longer wish to be a better man. It just…doesn't consume me as it used to."

"Ah," said Solas as if he'd just come to a realization. "There are other things that are becoming more important, I see."

We'd gotten to the heart of the matter now, thought Blackwall.

"Solas I'd rather not talk in riddles," said Blackwall curtly. "If you've something to say, say it."

Blackwall thought this by being more aggressive in his tone he would elicit some emotion from the stoic mage, but he received nothing.

"Magnolia is more than she lets on," Solas said simply.

"Something you feel like sharing?" Asked Blackwall. "Or just more riddles and tongue-twisters." Blackwall usually tried to remain patient in frustrating situations, something he didn't do often as a youth.

"She will become more than she is currently aware of." Solas said this while setting additional wards around the campsite. If he was annoyed by the outburst, he didn't show it. "This will cause her to change, to become more defined."

"You mean the mark on her hand?" Blackwall asked incredulously. "How will it cause her to change? What will it do to her?"

Solas shook his head, signifying Blackwall had missed the point.

"The mark can and will change her," Solas said sullenly. "In ways I cannot foresee. She was already an anomaly before the mark, in many ways. Now, it is changing to accommodate her and she is changing to accommodate it. Unfortunately neither will be as they were. "

Confusion was slowly becoming Blackwall's default state, especially when talking to Solas.

"Speak plainly," said Blackwall exasperatedly.

Solas looked at Blackwall, unsure of how this Grey Warden had managed to find favor with their young Herald.

"You've seen it," snapped Solas. "You may not have wanted to, you may be blind to it, but you have seen it. The joy she finds in the more violent parts of what we do. That part of her is sated, due to all of the forces that mount against us. But there will come a time where we'll need her kindness more than her blades. If we allow her to give herself completely to those violent urges, she may be able to come back. Or she may not want to. Either way, we'd lose her. You'd lose her."

Blackwall was stunned, but if he was being honest with himself there was truth in the mage's words. Ruby wasn't as reckless a fighter as he'd originally believed, but there was nothing reserved about her fighting style. She'd switch between bows and daggers on a whim and she was incredibly talented with both.

One time a man had disarmed her, and said something to her in the head of batte. Whatever he said had enraged her in a way he'd never witnessed before. She removed the band she used to keep her hair out of her face to strangle the man. For the rest of that fight, she was a whirlwind of death. She used a chain to launch herself at the furthest opponent, and cracked his jaw with her shin guards. Then she used the fallen archer's bow as a staff, disarmed the closest opponent and then stabbed him with his own dagger, while he was still holding it. At one point, Varric put Bianca away and just watched as she shoved an arrow through the slit of the last bandit's helmet, letting the spray of viscera coat her cheeks.

The same cheeks that flushed when Varric mentioned just how often he'd caught Ruby staring at Blackwall's impressive beard. When Varric mentioned that she might be interested in another one of Blackwall's impressive appendages, she fell off her horse in embarassment. Even Solas laughed at the time.

He'd never spent much time thinking about the duality of her nature. How someone so light-hearted and kind could fight with such reckless ferocity. It never bothered him before; her job required her to kill those who'd hurt others. What did it matter that she enjoyed it?

"So you're afraid she'll turn into some wild savage?" Blackwall said with a laugh. "She's good at what she does. From what I understand, she's been doing it for a lot longer than the Inquisition."

"I appreciate her talents," Solas said softly. "No one would dare say she wasn't skilled."

Blackwall nodded, watching Varric and Ruby return with a couple of skinned foxes. They were still too far off for them to hear Blackwall and Solas standing near the tents. He could see that she was laughing at some story Varric was telling, the dwarf was practically glowing with pride.

"I fear that her youthful exuberance will leave her," Solas said darkly. "I fear that whatever allows the darkness of her actions to not permeate her soul will leave. And I fear who she'd become without it."

Ruby and Varric were close enough that the two men could no longer have their conversation without her presence. Despite all that energy she burned catching fennecs Ruby was still the most energetic member of the party. She immediately asked Solas for a history lesson, one he was happy to oblige.

As she walked by Blackwall she slid her hand across his back. Even though he knew that he couldn't actually have felt anything through his doublet, the spot where she'd grazed him felt warm. She didn't stop to say anything, but when he turned to watch her walking into Solas's tent, three things happened.

Due to the way he was sitting,when he turned around her lower body was right at his eye level. The tight pants allowed for careful inspection of her calves and thighs, but her rear was covered by the bottom of her jacket. Thank the Maker for small mercies, Blackwall thought. They'd had all the tents they needed without him pitching an additional one.

As his eyes rose slowly up her frame he realized that her upper body was twisted, as if she was looking back at him over her shoulder. Which of course, was exactly what she was doing. She'd undone her hair, and while it wasn't obnoxiously long it was incredibly shiny and downright reflective in the sunlight. He could just make out the two green jewels that she used for sight reflecting under the crimson strands of her hair.

Also, as she walked into the tent, she bumped into Solas, knocking the books out of his hands. Whether or not that made the moment perfect, or ruined it, Blackwall wasn't sure. After apologizing, and listening to Solas chastise her about watching where she was going, The tent flap closed and Blackwall was left alone with Varric.

Varric, who'd watched the whole thing unfold but wasn't laughing.

Which Blackwall took to be bad. The dwarf was either laughing, yelling, drinking, complaining, or sleeping. He wasn't laughing, it was too early for drinking or sleeping. There was nothing positive left.

Varric went into his tent for a moment, then came back out with a small pack Blackwall had seen him often holding. With that, Varric asked Blackwall to move into a clearing not too far from camp.

Definitely a coordinated attack.

Blackwall hoped to make conversation and just move past the awkwardness that was Varric catching him staring at Ruby's ass. But he was stopped when Varric unrolled the pack in the clearing and started setting out various oils and tools. He was arranging them neatly on the log, and then he brought out a cloth large enough to sleep in. It was stained in various places, but the cloth itself was rather clean.

"So…" Blackwall said slowly. "I hope that's not for me."

Varric looked at him, and gave him a half-smile. Not nearly as lovely as the grin Ruby had given him days before, and there was no light in his eyes. Blackwall shifted around uncomfortably when Varric pulled Bianca, his crossbow, from his back and primed it as if he was preparing to fire.

"Warden," said Varric stiffly. "Chuckles talk to you?"

"About what?" Said Blackwall innocently.

"Huh," Varric said, not asking a question. "Chuckles and I may not have been on the same page. What did he say to you about Ruby?"

"He said to make sure not to ruin her youthful exuberance," Blackwall said gruffly. "Something I don't plan to do."

"Good," said Varric. "That's good."

Then he raised Bianca as if he was ready to fire, and Blackwall planned his escape. Seeing the tension on his face made Varric realize how the situation actually looked and laughed at the Grey Warden.

"Maker's balls. I don't care about your plans with her 'youthful exuberance,'" said Varric with a laugh. "She's a big girl. She'll be fine."

"Solas made it sound as if I was the key to keeping her from becoming a savage killer," Blackwall noted.

"Chuckles and I agree on a lot," said Varric. "But that's one place we disagree. Ruby's in a line of work that requires her to kill people. Bandits, assassins, noble pricks jockeying for position. And that's just the normal shit. Then you have demons, darkspawn, and all that. I'm not losing any sleep over the fact that she doesn't hate what she does."

Blackwall realized that he'd been entranced by Solas's words, and in hindsight had never thought any of those things until Solas brought them up. She wasn't going to devolve into an amoral killer simply because she didn't hate what she was forced to do.

"Then what's all this about?" Asked Blackwall.

Varric set Bianca down on the cloth and began to oil various mechanisms and levers, cleaning out muck and grime. Blackwall hadn't seen him do this before, then again they hadn't been on the road this long before. It had been two weeks since they'd been back to Haven, and they'd planned on returning to the town tomorrow.

"You want to hear a story?" Asked Varric.

Blackwall nodded slowly, imagining this was going to be some inspired tale about overcoming odds or whatever it was Varric was famous for writing. In truth, he hadn't read his books aside from The Tale of the Champion.

"I've got this friend. Cassandra wanted to meet her." Said Varric ruefully. "This friend and I had a small group of friends that we hung around with for years. We did all sorts of stupid little shit that usually resulted in hangovers and broken bones. Eventually my friend fell for the sweetest little blood mage in Thedas. Another one of our friends, who also loved my friend despite hating the magic she possessed, attacked her during the uprising in Kirkwall. She had tears in her eyes as she put him down, the second friend of ours she'd killed in as many days."

Blackwall was silent. This was clearly the tale of the Champion, but different. In Varric's book, they were not friends with the mage that destroyed the Chantry. The Champion wasn't the one to land the killing blow on the mage and there was no talk of this other friend she was forced to kill.

"What...why are you telling me this?" Asked Blackwall.

Varric was done oiling Bianca. He wrapped up his tools and put them back into the pack and began to wipe the crossbow down with the stained cloth.

"Warden Blackwall," Varric said bitterly. "I'm done writing sad stories about people I care about. And I care about Ruby. I've also seen powerful women attract stupid men that do even stupider things that hurt those women. I like you. I want to keep thinking you're not stupid. But I have plans if you're not."

Blackwall shifted around uncomfortably, something that was becoming more and more common today.

"What plans are those?" Asked Blackwall.

"Well," said Varric softly. "The sweetest blood mage in Thedas is still a blood mage. And her wife? Not a blood mage, and decidedly not as sweet. Those magical mistresses have two best friends. One of their best friends is an pantsless pirate that's killed more men than anyone I know. The other one is me."

Blackwall looked confused, which had officially become his default setting.

"We," Varric stressed, "will be paying you a visit if I find Ruby curled up in a ball, crying your name."

Blackwall blanched, partially because he figured that was what Varric expected to happen, and partially because he was more than a little concerned about the last two conversations he'd had with men who were supposed to have his back in a fight.

With that, the two returned to camp.

When the arrived, they found Ruby laying out in the sun, lazily tossing an arrow up into the sky while Solas read from a book on the history of the Dales. When they arrived, Ruby sat up quickly and Solas saw that he'd lost the young Herald to the two men who'd returned to camp.

"So," Ruby said, eying Blackwall. "Did my dads scare you off?"

Solas coughed as if he'd been fatally wounded, and Varric looked visibly distressed.

"They...I…" stammered Blackwall. "They did not."

Solas shot Blackwall a disappointed look, while Varric looked at ease. It was clear that dwarf was more concerned with Ruby being upset than being found out.

"Good," she said simply. With that she laid back down on the sleeping bag.

She looked up at Solas. "Feel better now, Hahren?" Ruby asked.

Solas rolled his eyes, not appreciating her using the elven he'd taught her for such frivolities. "I didn't mean to overstep, Magnolia. I merely wanted to get a sense of the man beneath the armor."

"So does she," quipped Varric.

Ruby's cheeks turned bright pink, but her eyes flashed dangerously. She sat up so all could see her.

"I saw this coming," she said sharply. "and I allowed it happen. Don't make a habit out of it, you two. If I want to bed half of the Inquisition tomorrow I'll do it. If I decided to sew it up down there and become a Chantry blowhard like Vivienne or Chancellor Roderick, I'll do that too."

There was a brief silence, as the babbling brook was the only thing that spoke.

"We weren't trying to stop you," said Varric suddenly. "From whatever this is. I care about you, beyond all this Herald shit. I like to protect people I care about."

"We care about you," corrected Solas. "We like to protect those we care about. As Master Tethras put it, 'beyond all this Herald shit.'"

"I...appreciate it." Said Ruby. "But I've been sans father for years now. I'd appreciate having friends more."

Solas and Varric nodded.

"Friends then," said Varric. "I can do that."

"That is agreeable, Lethallan." Said Solas softly.

Ruby was beaming, and while Blackwall enjoyed the view there was a selfish part of him that wished it had been his doing. When she turned her gaze on him, he noticed that it had become slightly predatory.

"And you," she said with smile. "I hope this hasn't given you the wrong impression of me."

Blackwall looked at her, grinning from ear to ear. "Not at all, Ruby."

She smiled back. "Good. I wouldn't want you to think I needed Varric or Solas."

Solas and Varric looked at each other. It was their turn to be confused.

"What do you mean by that?" Asked Blackwall.

"Oh honey," said Ruby, biting into a peach. "You're a good soldier, but if I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. If you hurt me, I'll kill you. And I like to think I'd feel bad about it, but I honestly don't know."

Her smile said she was kidding, but her eyes said she wasn't.

Maybe Solas wasn't wrong.


	6. Interventions and Revelations

Six - Interventions and Revelations

The Herald of Andraste. Or Magnolia Trevelyan. Or Lia. Or Ruby. Whatever else the woman called herself. To some of the townsfolk in Haven, the woman was the 'Alcoholic of Andraste.'

Josephine had given up on getting the Herald not to drink. At first, she informed Flissa that the Tavern hours should change to something that forced the Herald to stop drinking at a reasonable hour. This was only successful in driving the Herald to drink quicker, which led to new and exciting problems.

Then Josephine tried cutting off the Herald on certain days, something Treva greatly disapproved of. Treva recommended leaving the matter alone, as she noted that Ruby hadn't been drinking nearly as much as she used to. At first the Ambassador thought she was joking, but the elven woman's expression left no room for doubt.

Josephine was willing to take Treva's advice, but Leliana was more persistent. Leliana told Flissa to tell the Herald that she was barred from going to the Tavern more than two consecutive days in a row. Treva would later tell Ruby that Flissa 'looked like she was going to piss herself,' when Leliana ordered her to do so.

When it actually happened, Ruby seemed calm and rational. From Leliana and Josephine's point of view, she spoke to Flissa for a few moments, and while the woman looked concerned, it never seemed heated. Then she turned on her heel and walked out of the bar, giving Josephine and Leliana a slight nod and sending a grin Treva's way. Which at first gave Josephine hope that the situation wasn't as dire as it appeared. Flissa went into the back with Treva, and recalled her conversation with the Herald.

"Lia looked relatively happy considering you just cut her off," said Treva cautiously.

Flissa looked nervous, and while normally Treva thought Flissa's fretting was kind of cute, it was important the Treva understand how upset Lia was at the moment.

"I said 'your worship,' and she said 'Ruby or Magnolia. I told you to stop calling me that.'" Flissa said quickly. "Then I asked her if she wanted a drink today and I think she could tell something was up."

Then Flissa told Treva what really happened. Ruby quickly realized something was going on. First, of course she wanted a drink. Flissa hadn't asked her in weeks, Ruby normally would walk up and Flissa would start pouring ale or whiskey, whichever was closer at the time. It was a perfect system.

Secondly, Flissa looked more twitchy than usual. She also kept looking over Ruby's shoulder. Almost as if she was trying to signal something to Ruby. She looked back and saw Treva serving Leliana, Josephine and Minave drinks.

What Flissa didn't remember was that the last time the Tavern's hours changed, those three happened to be at the Tavern when Flissa told Ruby. All of the pieces fell into place as Ruby realized what was going on.

Everything that had been going on was to keep her from passing out at the Tavern so frequently.

Ruby also realized this was going to keep happening until she did something. She didn't want to keep putting Flissa in this position, as she was grateful for Flissa taking on Treva at the Tavern. She also wasn't going to give up alcohol because they thought it was unbecoming of their savior.

That was when Ruby gave Flissa a new directive. Ruby would frequent the Tavern less, and in exchange there would always be a bottle of whiskey in her cabin. Flissa wasn't one for subterfuge, but Ruby's firm tone implied that she wasn't asking. Then Ruby left the Tavern, smiling at Josephine and Liliana on the way out.

When Flissa asked Treva for her advice, Treva came up with a pretty ingenious system. Treva usually got the Bull's Chargers to help her with bringing in new inventory. It wouldn't be hard to get one of them to bring a case of whiskey to Lia's room. As far as Treva was concerned, this was a win-win. Flissa wasn't a fan of lying, but Treva convinced her that a sober Herald might sound good in theory, but it was bad in execution.

For two weeks it seemed as if the plan was working. Until Leliana noticed that there were two entire cases of whiskey missing from bar's stores. When she was questioned, Flissa told the Spymaster everything. Leliana then brought in Treva, who also immediately confessed. Leliana thought for a moment that she should force both of them out of the Inquisition as they disobeyed her, but Josephine reminded the Spymaster of a few key details.

Treva is the Herald's closest friend, like a sister. If they were to kick her out of the Inquisition, the Herald would not be far behind. Not to mention the fact that the Herald has already defended the woman at knife point against another member of the Inquisition. Lastly, had the Herald been denied alcohol here, she would simply have gone somewhere else. To Josephine it was a lost cause, but Leliana didn't give up so easily.

Leliana said they would deal with this when the Herald returned from the Storm Coast. This led to one of the most uncomfortable conversations Flissa had ever been a part of.

The Herald seemed to be in a good mood. As usual, she took her time making her way to the Chantry for a debrief. Making bombs and poisons was a side hobby of hers; something she could sell when she didn't want to do the things she was trained to do. This was one more thing that gave Leliana cause for concern; what was her line of work that these skills were necessary? She stopped to check and see if Harritt had created that special gauntlet for her she'd designed after inspecting Bianca. She'd come up with gauntlet that had two gears and a spring that quickly shot and retracted a thin silverlite chain. There was a hook on the end of it that allowed her to shoot it at a person and then propel herself towards that person.

Varric thought it was silly, and Solas thought it was unnecessarily reckless. Blackwall said it was the most innovative thing he'd ever seen, but Ruby could have made a pot of stew and Blackwall would have called it the most innovative thing he'd ever seen. She seemed a bit unsure about the Grey Warden. Ruby hadn't been particularly flirty with Blackwall since the time her Inquisition Dads tried to scare him off. But she hadn't flirted with anyone else since then either.

The gauntlet that Ruby had designed was finished, and she planned to stop to talk to Cullen and Cassandra about future training exercises with it before making her way to the Tavern. However, neither was there. No one was around the Tavern either. Something was off.

A few moments later, her suspicions were confirmed. At the door, she saw a very guilty looking Treva standing next to a stoic Leliana and a terrified Flissa.

There was no one else she could see in the Tavern, but from the movement she could tell there was at least two other people in there.

Another one, thought Ruby. Fucking shit, this is going to suck.

Leliana and Magnolia stared at each other, daring the other one to speak first.

"This is going to suck huh?" Asked Ruby flippantly.

Treva snorted, holding down a laugh. One time a former dwarven contact of hers came by the old Tavern to try and hire her on for some contract. She refused, and he knocked her drink out of her hand. This was the only time Treva was ever afraid of Lia. She held the man down and shaved half of his beard off. Not in a way that was fashionable. Leliana was probably smart enough not to knock a drink out of her hand, but the only time would tell.

"Yes, Herald." Leliana said gravely, "This is not going to be a pleasant conversation."

Leliana gestured to the other side of bar, where Cullen, Blackwall and Cassandra were sitting. Ruby reached over the bar, and grabbed a half-empty bottle of ale. This was met with disapproving looks from Cassandra and Leliana. Blackwall looked at her with confusion, and the Commander was unreadable. Flissa felt the need to run behind the bar and get her a colder bottle from the cellar, but she knew that probably wouldn't be well received either.

"Herald," began Cassandra. "You have been made to bear circumstances beyond the station of most of humanity. It is natural for you to seek...pleasures of the spirits. But you do not do so in moderation."

"My spirit hasn't been pleasured in awhile," muttered Ruby while taking a swig from the bottle.

This earned stifled laughs from Blackwall, Treva and surprisingly, Cullen. Ruby stared at him for a moment, thinking she'd just seen a glimpse behind the surface.

Yet these laughs were offset by the grave looks Ruby was earning from Leliana and Cassandra.

"Herald, your drunkenness has become more widespread in Haven than your heroism," said Leliana coldly. "It assists our enemies by making us look incompetent, and it makes it harder to gain legitimate allies. Josie is pulling her hair out trying to make connections, and you're not making things easier."

"Last time I checked I recruited almost everyone I travel with!" Said Ruby hotly. "And most of people witness my drunkenness are here. That means it's your own people making it harder for you to work, not me!"

No one said anything, even Leliana was taken aback by this. She wasn't wrong; the only way tales of her drunkenness could have spread is if agents of the Inquisition were talking.

"That may be…" Leliana began.

"I also retained one of the best damn mercenary companies in Thedas!" Interrupted Ruby. "I closed a fuckload of rifts to the damn fade! I literally do not know how many rebel mages and templars I killed in the last week, let alone since this shit began!"

"All good things, Herald." Said Cullen, suddenly thrusting himself into the spotlight. "But in the eyes of the Chantry, good deeds do not cancel out moral misgivings."

"Moral misgivings!?" Asked Ruby sardonically. "I won't be lectured at by a man who…"

Ruby trailed off. The members of the Inquisition didn't know at the time, but Ruby had gathered information on all of her advisers, and most of her companions. She didn't know how to track apostates, and seeing as how Solas spent most of his time asleep, she wasn't really worried about it.

There was a pause.

Cullen looked deflated. Ruby didn't know why he'd given up so quickly. Maybe he was concerned she knew something she didn't. She was angry, and in her anger she thought to throw Cullen's role in the Kirkwall Uprising in his face. She'd heard rumors about what happened during the brief time he was Knight Commander of Kirkwall. But Ruby realized that she would only be doing so to be vindictive, and there was no reason to do so.

"Herald," Said Cassandra apologetically. "I believe that 'moral misgivings' may have been a poor choice of words, but it is…"

"Largely irrelevant," interrupted Leliana coldly. "His point is still correct; your drunkenness negatively affects our ability to operate effectively."

The Herald and The Spymaster stared at each other for a moment before Blackwall interjected.

"At this point, what are we doing?" Asked Blackwall angrily. "The Herald...Ruby," he added quickly, "enjoys drinking at the Tavern. That's why we have a Tavern."

Ruby looked at him, and gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Leliana did too, although her smile was much more dangerous. Blackwall didn't notice, his eyes scanning Ruby's face for additional signs of approval.

"Furthermore," Blackwall continued. "Ruby is doing everything she can for this Inquisition. I watched her rescue refugees, kill bandits and build bridges in the name of your Inquisition. If she wants to down a whole damn bottle of whiskey a night I say let her as long she gets the job done."

Blackwall looked pleased at first. Until Ruby looked at Blackwall with an expression Cullen couldn't place. It wasn't bad, but it didn't seem very good either. Suddenly the Warden appeared bashful.

"Herald," said Cullen softly. "It is not just about our outside appearance."

Everyone in the Tavern looked confused, including Ruby.

"Cullen," Ruby said firmly. "I'm going to call you by your first name. You're going to do the same. Now, what's going on?"

"Her…" Cullen squirmed as she glared. He stopped himself and started again.

"Magnolia," he began. "I have wondered, I think some of us have wondered if you drink due to stress, or your trauma. This is not something I am unfamiliar with, and there is something that I… that anyone… this room could help you with, let us know."

Ruby smiled, a soft one. Cullen grinned, while it was Blackwall's turn to look confused. And slightly annoyed.

"What the Commander means..." said Leliana.

"Was exactly what he said," interrupted Cullen, much to the surprise of everyone in attendance. "If she wants to drink from the still I don't care as long as it's what she wants, and not because of something that's happening to her. Or something we're doing to her. "

The last statement he made led to a small argument between Leliana and Cullen, which led to a larger argument that involved Cassandra, which grew to encompass everyone in the bar except for Flissa and Treva.

Treva heard the arguments, and realized that the majority of their arguments came from not understanding each other. While she couldn't get all of them to open up to each other, Treva knew one person who might.

"Lia," said Treva softly. "Tell them how you met your brother."

The tavern fell silent as Ruby turned around quickly, with fire in her eyes.

Flissa flinched, head slightly bowed at the aggressive act. Leliana stared at the two women. The Herald, wild eyes and anger. The elf, calm and firm. A great wildfire against a resolute oak.

The Herald balled her fists, and while Leliana didn't think the woman was actually about to attack her oldest friend, years of traveling had proven that she should expect the unexpected.

There was no fight. Leliana watched the small elf, Treva, work her hands into the Herald's hands, relaxing then. Then she turned the woman around, and direct her to a chair. There the Herald of Andraste sat, after being led around by a waitress. She was still fuming, but it was like the last ashes of a great forest fire.

Pretty unexpected.

Everyone in the Tavern noticed how the two women acted around each other. It was clear that Ruby was the muscle of the operation, and probably the brains. But Treva was the heart, the conscience. Leliana made note of this. Not to use it against her, just to better understand the young woman who was decidedly becoming more and more important to the long-term plans of the Inquisition.

"Lia," Treva said, drawing small circles on Ruby's forearm. "You're going to tell them at some point. Why not now?"

Ruby stared at her with the same stare that turned most of the Inquisition into sniveling servants, but Treva didn't flinch. Bright green eyes met dark blue irises and neither wavered.

"I don't see how this has…" Blackwall began.

"I would hear any story the Herald would like to share," said Cullen quickly.

Ruby's head snapped up, unsure of the Commander's game. He must be in league with the Spymaster, Ruby thought. There was no other reason for him to be there.

Leliana nodded. "I would also like to know about your brother. Malcolm Trevelyan, the former Chevalier Captain? He could…"

"He will do nothing he does not want to," Ruby hissed. "Nothing."

The Herald stared defiantly at the Spymaster, while Treva gave Leliana a pleading look, as if she was trying to will the woman into not continuing this line of questioning.

Leliana noticed that there was much more malice in Ruby's eyes whenever she was defending someone close to her. It reminded her of Vaela Tabris. The Hero of Ferelden, and her former wife. The last time they'd antagonized Ruby this much, Leliana was afraid she would try and leave the Inquisition.

"Of course," Leliana said smoothly. "We are not interested in involving any of your family members that aren't already interested in joining us, though I will admit I thought our Commander might like to have your brother here offering addition strategic support."

"Not at the cost of antagonizing the Herald," said Cullen quickly.

Ruby's gaze met Cullen's, and for a second she thought she saw something there. It wasn't happiness, or sadness. It was warmth, raw and unrefined. She looked back at Leliana, whose face was a mask of perfect detachment.

"Why do you want to know, Spymaster?" Ruby spat coldly. "Find out dirt on one more person, one more piece of information to use against me if I don't do what you say?"

Leliana visibly recoiled at the implication of the questions. She didn't think that she had a great relationship with the Herald, but she didn't think it was to the point of open hostility. Clearly it was, and in this moment Leliana realized that Ruby was not wrong for thinking this.

Ruby didn't remember what happened in the breach, but she said she didn't remember a lot of things.

It was something Leliana always meant to ask her about it directly, but then she began gathering information about the Herald without her. It was working, so she never stopped. Since then, the Inquisition went from thinking she was the mastermind behind the plot to kill the Divine, to essentially conscripting her into the Inquisition as an agent. It addition to that, one of Leliana's agents had directly threatened the life of her only friend, during a secret meeting Leliana called to gather information on the woman.

A woman she never actually asked herself. All of those moments together didn't cast the Inquisition in the best light.

Leliana thought again of Vaela. Vaela was kind when the situation called for it, and a force of nature when it called for that too. If Vaela had been through what they'd put the Herald through, she would've already left the Inquisition. Or at least tried to.

"Ruby," said Leliana, watching as the young woman's eyes softened when she noticed that Leliana had called her by the nickname Varric had given her. "I do not...I am not your enemy. I didn't know you felt this way. I realize that my approach can seem severe at times. But I only do so because I feel it is necessary."

Ruby nodded slowly. "So you treat me like shit because it's necessary?" She asked.

Leliana's eye twitched. "How do I treat you 'like shit?'" She replied, trying to keep her voice calm.

Cullen gestured at Cassandra, who moved closer to Leliana while Cullen moved closer to the Herald. Just in case.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ruby said sarcastically. "Am I just not invited to all the secret meetings and interventions and other things involving all the other agents in this damn place? Or do these meetings just happen when it's about me?"

"Of course it only happens for you, girl!" Yelled Leliana suddenly.

There was a hush that fell over the bar, as Cassandra realized she'd never heard Leliana speak with such ferocity. Treva realized this was the closest she'd been to seeing Ruby show fear. The fear was quickly replaced with defiance.

Suddenly Leliana looked tired, and enraged.

"You can close rifts!" Said Leliana hotly. "You've done more for the refugees of the Hinterlands than most of my agents combined. The camps you've established in the region makes moving through Ferelden incredibly easy. Your work is what is allowing us to contact the Templars and Mages for aid. Do you know how much of our time is spent gathering information on those who may want to kill you, or scouting areas out for you? Or making sure you have everything you'd need? It's all for you! I wanted to know everything about you, so that I can protect you from things you might not have noticed otherwise."

Ruby looked at her incredulously. Everyone did.

"Yes," continued Leliana. "You're smart, and you're strong and you're resourceful. But you're still just a person. A very important person. And right now I need to feel as if I'm doing everything I can to protect you!"

It was so quiet Flissa could hear the rat that had been evading her scurrying along in the wall. She stared at Leliana for an uncomfortably long time, noticing how despite their hair being exactly the same color, they had almost nothing else in common. At least, not physically. Both of them were incredibly skilled with bows and daggers, although Ruby favored daggers while Leliana didn't.

"To...to protect me?" Asked Ruby incredulously. "Do you...like me? Beyond my role to the Inquisition?"

Treva recognized that tone of voice. It was the same tone of voice Ruby adopted when she first told Treva about her brother, and her name. It was still incredible to her that the most dangerous woman she'd ever known could sound so wounded. Maybe that was a part of it.

Leliana nodded, and allowed her serene mask to fall. "Why wouldn't I enjoy your company? You're funny, albeit naive. I have overheard many tales about you, even the mundane ones are entertaining."

Suddenly Ruby saw the woman behind the Spymaster. The woman who had done everything, given everything in service of something greater. The woman who was terrified that it had all been for nothing.

"Leliana," said Ruby softly. "Have you...not just thought to ask? Directly?"

Leliana looked slightly aback. "If I'd asked, you would have just told me?" She queried.

"Fucking, maybe." said Ruby angrily. "I don't know. I haven't heard you ask something about me that I wouldn't just answer honestly myself, but I assumed you'd just think I'm a liar."

Ruby noticed that Leliana seemed legitimately hurt by this accusation.

After a moment, Leliana looked up with her eyes sparkling like the light that precedes a sunshower. "Herald, I've done things that have made you feel attacked. Unwelcome. That was not, is not my intention but I cannot control how you feel about these things. From now on, if I want to know something, I will come to you directly."

And with that, Leliana began to turn and walk away, but she felt a slight pressure on her shoulder. It was Treva. The diminutive elf had brown bangs that ended just before her deep blue eyes began. Whether or not she adopted this look from the Herald, or vice versa, she'd probably never know.

"Ruby was going to tell us a story about how she came to live with her brother," said Treva softly.

Leliana turned around, to see Cullen, Blackwall, Cassandra, Flissa and Ruby sitting at the table. Leliana sat down, and Flissa recruited Blackwall to come with her to the cellar to get drinks for the group. When he returned, he found that Ruby had moved seats, now seated between Treva and Cullen, which meant that he would sit on the end next to Leliana.

He was displeased.

Still, Ruby's story was less interesting than it was made out to be. It was also much sadder. Strangely enough, it was for the same reason. Ruby didn't remember her childhood.

At all.

Her first memory started around 9:27 Dragon, when she remembers being brought to her brother in Ostwick. Later on, she'd learn about Sylvira and Victor, mostly when it was drunkenly shouted at her as a teenager anytime her brother made her go to a family gathering. Also, she'd learn most of that was lies.

When they assumed she'd turned 14, Malcolm's present to her was a bow, as well as a charm that their father asked him to give to her when she was ready. It was elven, and had belonged to her mother.

She became really skilled at archery, but she also learned about the power of her mother's charm. It allowed her to 'disappear,' but only for a short time. It also didn't work on the same person after a while. Malcolm once attempted to teach her her the ways of the chevalier; she had the build for it. But she hated shields. Eventually she learned about dual wielding weapons, and never turned back. She quickly became one of the best young duelists in the Free Marches, unofficially. This titled was earned by the trail of bleeding suitors she left in her wake when she was a teen.

One day she learned that her brother was having financial troubles. She'd planned to repay him when she came of age, but he couldn't wait that long. He'd reached out to the family for assistance. They'd told him that they would not assist him so long as he allowed Magnolia to live in his house. The elf-blooded reminder of Victor's betrayal had to go. Malcolm had refused to throw her out, which led to him almost losing the estate when she turned 16. Magnolia learned Ellen was pregnant and there was a strong possibility it was twins. Knowing this would make her brother have to choose between her and his family, she left on her own.

Several months later, while she was living in rented tavern rooms, a courier tracked her down and delivered a parcel. It was a lyrium infused broadsword, and the deed to a cabin outside of Kirkwall. They kept in touch, with Ruby sending him some of her earnings just for him to return them with additional coin.

But that wasn't all.

The saddest part was, Magnolia wasn't her real name. Not anymore than Lia, or Ruby. Blackwall realized that her statement to him about the importance of names wasn't just metaphorical.

When she first went to live with her brother, she didn't speak much. When he asked of her name, she told him that she didn't know. Malcolm reached out to his father, but never received word back. In fact, neither Trevelyan sibling had seen their father since.

One day, Magnolia was standing in Ellen's flower garden. Ellen was Malcolm's wife, and while she wasn't excited about having her husband's half-sister live with them, she knew Malcolm was not a man that would turn his back on his sister. Half-sister or otherwise.

Ellen was standing with her in the garden, when she pointed a bundle of flowers and said they were apple blossoms.

"No," she'd said suddenly. "They're Magnolias."

It was the first time she'd spoken without first being asked a question. She asked Ellen and Malcolm to call her that and they agreed, saying it was as good a name as any.

The worst part for Magnolia was that she never knew how she knew that. She didn't know why she wanted to cry on the eighth of every Cloudreach. Malcolm had told her that the date wasn't significant to the Trevelyans, and suggested that she take it as her birthday, as they didn't know that either. She agreed.

Most of the time she lied, it was because she didn't know the truth. Or at least, she felt she couldn't be sure of it. She only revealed surface-level information because she only knew surface-level information about herself.

All of them cried at one point or another. At least, all of them did their equivalent. Cullen and Cassandra were extremely red-faced, while there was a thin train of dried tears on Blackwall's chin. Leliana let a solitary tear fall down her cheek, the delicate morsel of precipitation acting as the harbinger of a larger storm that would occur later. Flissa bawled, and Treva decided that while the woman was cute when she fretted, she was an ugly crier.

It was decided that the Herald would do whatever she wanted. Leliana said as much. Ruby said she'd try to represent the Inquisition better, considering she's "running it already." Leliana gave Ruby a knowing smile, which chilled her to the bone.

Treva wondered if Ruby preferred not letting this many people this close, but there was warmth that spread through her when she thought about how this small band of disparate heroes was starting to resemble a family.


End file.
